The Nightingale Effect
by Animelover007
Summary: Stranded in the neighboring forest, Takuma awakens to finds himself in the care of a young woman who's brash tongue and un-trusting eyes leave him bewildered while he recovers from his wounds. Her name is Izanami Kusoichi and unknown to him, she has a deeper connection to him than he thinks. Deviates from the storyline in the beginning. Rating may change in future chapters.
1. 1: Prolouge

In the light of the new day smoke clouded the sky, obscuring the sun and covering everything upon the ground in a mist-colored hue. A mountain of rock and rubble sat in place of where a large estate had once stood like a tall, dark shadow. Smoke rose from various crevices and cracks, joining the gray clouds above and masking the green of the forest surrounding the destroyed mansion. In what might have been a courtyard laid a lone figure, a man, his clothes torn and bloodied from a previous battle. He was unusual in the sense that there was no other like him: he was paler than any human, and, unlike his vampire brethren, he often stayed up late into the day, basking in the warm sunlight and almost always wore an equally bright smile on his face.

Yet here he lay, dying, amid the rubble and fresh decay and dust of his enemy—his Grandfather. Gone was his usual bright smile in favor of one of unconsciousness—a restful expression he now wore, like a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Unnoticed to him, another person—a woman—had entered the grounds, their steps echoing off the walls that had somehow stood against the fight. Without hesitation she stepped towards the young man, stopping a few inches from his body before crouching down beside him.

Reaching one hand over him she placed a light hand on his back, covering the area where his heart would be and carefully measuring the beats. With her other hand she reached towards his face, small breaths of air rolling over her fingers as she placed her hand under his nose. Sighing to herself—either out of relief or resignation—she slapped her hands against her knees and stood, her shadow covering him like a blanket. She looked back behind herself, towards the mountainside that seemed perpetually covered in fog like a thick veil. She sighed to herself once more, slightly glaring down at the unconscious young man before a voice startled her, causing her to turn back towards the way she had come.

"He's dying you know," they said, moving around the stone wall that had obscured them from view. The woman narrowed her eyes in slight recognition before turning her sights back to the man in question.

"So then what do you suggest I do?" the woman asked them, causing their mouth to turn up at the corners in a cunning smile.

"Let's make an arrangement, shall we?"


	2. 2: Chapter 1

Sunlight had never been an issue for him. He was a rare type of vampire in that way. Although now, in the aftermath of battle, the sunlight he would normal revel in felt like pins and needles to his aching eyes as it attempted to pierce his eyelids. Thankfully a shadow fell upon his pain struck eyes, and masked the rays of the sun from him. He felt relief in this minor comfort before his mind became alert to the presence of a person inside this room he had been brought to, but then that struck the question: where was he? Surely he was not in the house he had grown up in. No, he had brought it down brick by brick when he set out to bring an end to the Ichijou line. A hand swept his forehead, sweeping away the hair that fell there, and rested against his head, like a mother feeling for a fever on her sick child.

This action felt foreign to him, so it was of no surprise when his own hand reached up and grabbed the person's wrist, a woman's by the slim feel of it beneath his palm. Against his fingertips he felt the slow steady pulse of her heart shake once in subtle shock before slowing to a relaxed beat.

"Looks like you're recovering alright if you've got a grip like that," the woman said, her voice both rough and soft in his ears, yet he couldn't bear to open his eyes and look upon his would-be savior. Little known to him he didn't have to, for she reached with the fingers of her free hand to his eyes and gently pried one open, exposing his pupil to the dim lighting of a wood paneled room, and young woman, no older then he was, standing at his bedside. "Ahh~ I was wrong. Looks like you have green eyes," she remarked releasing his eyelid and pulling her hand free of his loosening grip.

"Who are you?" the young vampire asked, moving his raised hand to his face to rub tiredly at his eyes, working them open more naturally then her rash action had. He brought his hand down next to hesitantly touch his sore throat. Whether it was like this because of misuse for however long he had been unconscious, or because of his need for blood, he wasn't quite sure of yet. He looked up at the woman next to him, and remarked to himself about what he saw. A young woman of fair skin and a taller than average, gangly frame, yet she was no shorter than him by an inch or so. Shoulder length, light brown hair framed an oval face, and blue-green eyes like that of a glass marble sat perched above a small nose and pale, thin lips. For sure she wasn't a beauty like his former classmate Ruka, or could even be considered gorgeous by anyone's standards, but she had the type of look to her that—to him—made her seem sweet and innocent. A slightly rounded face, a gentle curve to her smile, and a somewhat feminine figure. At least to him her appearance was too sweet and kind for the harshness of her personality which matched her outward appearance like polka dots and stripes.

"Name's Izanami Kusoichi, but feel free to call me Iz. Now who the hell are you, Mr. Prince?" Izanami asked, folding her arms across an ample chest, looking down at him with a look of mixed emotion, one he could not pinpoint.

"Ah, my name is Takuma Ichijou. A pleasure to meet you." As a gentleman, he could not be any means forget his manners in the presence of a lady, no matter how bad mannered the young lady was. He started to sit up only to fall back against the headboard when a sharp pain went through his upper body, more specifically his chest. He pressed his hand against his chest in a feeble attempt to relieve the pain, only to close his eyes tightly and ball the sheet covering him in his fist, waiting for the pain to subside, and dreading when it didn't.

Izanami reached down to grab the hand that was held tightly to an area over his heart, moving it away despite his protest, and began to unbutton his foreign shirt, revealing a smattering of bandages covering his upper torso. The area over his heart had begun to seep red, staining the once white bandage with blood and perspiration.

"So, Mr. Takuma Ichijou, how'd you get an injury like that and manage to survive?" Izanami asked, studying him with an intensity like that of a scientist or a doctor analyzing their subject, eyeing every twitch and muscle movement Takuma showed as he focused on answering her questions.

"I-I don't remember," he answered, swallowing despite the dryness of his throat. Izanami sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching over him to a glass of water set on a bed side table.

"It's too bad you can't remember," she dryly commented, her eyes and voice revealing to him that she didn't believe a word he said. Of course he couldn't blame her, nor could he tell her the real reason for his injury. He was most likely branded a liar, yet he couldn't very well have her think him insane. "You've been unconscious for four days. Depending on the nature of your injury, I would have guessed you'd be out for longer," she continued, reaching up a hand to graze the bandage, with her nails.

"Ever since I was a child I've been a quick healer," Takuma answered, watching Izanami as carefully as she was watching him.

"Even so, you're body isn't up to par with your mind. I suggest, Mr. Takuma Ichijou, that you let your body rest for the next few days." While she was talking her fingers had let slip the knot tying together his bandages, loosening and unraveling them from his torso. Takuma feared that she would see a wound farther along in the healing process then it should be, and began to protest against it, only to have his efforts refuted. He waited nervously, absentmindedly clutching the blanket out of fear that she would ask him what he was. It was an action she misinterpreted as slight pain when the bandage stuck to his flesh several times because of the amount of dried blood over his wound. And when she removed the last of the bandage from his body, Takuma stared in shock at the bloody gash and the crude placement of black stitches near his solar plexus.

"Still think you're all right, Mr. Takuma Ichijou?" Izanami asked him, referencing his earlier argument when she was removing the bandage.

"I…I didn't think it was this bad…" he said at a loss for words. Takuma could tell that it was healing despite its vulgar appearance, the wound closing up very slowly despite his rapid healing ability. Evidence that the blow dealt to him was more deadly than he remembered.

_The severity of the injury must have hindered the healing process. Perhaps that is why my throat is burning_, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Izanami open a drawer in the night stand and withdraw from it a roll of gauze. Picking at the edge, she placed the end on his left side and unrolled it across his chest, giving him simple commands, such as: pick up your arms, as she wrapped his body in the bandage. When the wound was once again covered, she tied off the end in a knot and replaced the gauze in the drawer.

"Take it easy for the next few days, Mr. Takuma Ichijou. However bad the outside may look, it's the inside that sustains the worst damage," she said, standing up from his bedside, "Best let your body rest and recover until that wound turns into a scar, don't you agree?" She raised her hand, her index finger pressed against his forehead, willing him to lie back down on the bed. "Sleep well, Mr. Takuma Ichijou." With this simple farewell, she turned away from the man lying in her bed, a lazy wave thrown carelessly over her shoulder. When she reached the open bedroom door, Takuma stopped her with a single word, causing her to pause in the doorway, but not turn around.

"Can you tell me where I am?" he asked her, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes filled with curiosity as to who this young woman was and how she had come to find him.

She inclined her head towards him; her eyes seemed to be looking at him out of their corners, yet her short bangs hid that fact from him. The woman gave him a smile, showing her upper teeth before hiding them completely when she frowned once again. It was like she had a heard a joke that had lost its humorous intent after a brief moment. "Middle of nowhere, centered in the hills of a mountain range," she answered, leaving him to question both her riddle and her sanity. The only other clue that he and Izanami were still close to the broken home was that they must have been within walking distance since her house seemed to be situated in the mountains. While the question of where he was took space within his mind, one other question plagued his subconscious:

How had he survived when he was supposed to die?

* * *

He couldn't go back to sleep. Not after he had just woken up after being unconscious for several days. That said he couldn't lie in bed any longer than a few hours just staring up at the ceiling and wondering what had happened to his friends or what Kaname had done to the Council.

Although her request had been more of a demand, he decided to find her and tell her his thanks for healing him to the best of her abilities before leaving. However, when he entered what he assumed to be her kitchen, straight down the hall from the bedroom he was staying in, both her stance and her tone came off glacial cold as soon as he stepped inside.

"Didn't I tell you to lie down for a few days and take it easy?" Izanami asked him, taking care to not grace him with her full attention as she focused on the task at hand: chopping vegetables on a cutting board and throwing them carelessly into a metal pot on a gas stove.

He paused a few feet away from her, his former plan escaping him in the presence of someone colder than ice itself.

"Yes…but I'm feeling much better than before. Although appearances say otherwise," he replied, his reassuring smile dropping a few degrees at the corners when she turned a fearsome glare on him, eyes as soulless as the marbles they represented.

"If you're feeling better, then maybe you should hit the bricks," she told him coldly, turning back to her cooking process.

It was something that he wanted, sure, but he didn't want to part ways like this, with her in this foul mood that seemed to be ever present within her.

"Well…I mean—" Takuma started to say only to be cut off mid-sentence when she turned on him and roughly pushed him against the far wall. His body slid down the wood paneling until he sat upon the floor, head falling back to rest against the wall as the pain in his chest flared up again in accordance to his breathing until he felt the sole of her shoe press against his solar plexus, igniting something akin to a bonfire within his body. As the pain dulled down to a low burning ember, Takuma opened his eyes from the squinted slits they had become to see Izanami staring down at him with something he could only assume was a mixture of pity and distance.

"I'm not doing this because I get off seeing you in pain, Mr. Prince. I'm doing this to prove that you are not "better". For all we know you could have internal bleeding and me pressing on your injury might be making it worse. And don't think me cruel, I just don't want to send you off on your merry way only to find your obituary in tomorrow's circulars. Got it?" she said, removing her foot and replacing it with her hand in front of his face. He hesitated before placing his right hand in hers, gripping it tightly as she pulled him up to his feet, stumbling a bit due to the sudden force. "If you're not going to rest, then either take a seat or explore my humble abode. Just make sure you take it easy." She went back to her cooking then, throwing something that looked vaguely like a radish into the odd mixture. Takuma watched her warily for a moment, weighing his given options against each other. Like hours earlier, she was in no positive mood for anything close to conversation, and he decided it best to leave her alone for the time being. So he left her, turning back to the other doorway that looked to be the entrance to the sitting room, yet before he left her alone completely, she gave a warning to the blonde.

"Don't open the door at the end of the hallway."

It was an odd sentence, even for her, yet it compelled him to ask her the consequences if he should disobey this simple command. Not that he would, but it was simple curiosity.

She looked back at him, a menacing smirk in place of her somewhat usual glare. "Because if you do, I'll have to kill you."

Not to say that her threats weren't convincing, if anything he believed that she did indeed have the skill set to challenge him if the dead rabbit on her kitchen table was any indication of how deadly she was. More so it was the belief that someone wouldn't go through the trouble of nursing another back to health only to kill them off with their bare hands. And if she was like any other human, then she would be the same.

Izanami continued to smile menacingly at the blond man she had found lying injured in the dirt and rubble of a mansion long dead—if not physically then spiritually. He in turn looked at her, not so much as an ounce of fear or indifference towards her vague threat. Instead in place was a small, amused smile, like he didn't believe a word she said.

_Tricky, but I know I intimidate him to some level,_ Izanami thought, her eyes softening slightly enough to look less emotionless, and her wide smirk turning in to a small, slightly amused smile.

"Just kidding," she said, leaning her left hip against the counter upon which she cut her vegetables. "But seriously, don't go inside. I don't think I'd be able to face you again if I did." She turned back to her cooking, taking her knife in hand while the blond boy behind her held back a shiver, wondering what it was behind the door at the end of the hall that caused her to grow more callous, if that were possible.

He left her then, turning his back on the woman and her dead rabbit in favor of exploring her home since it would likely be a few weeks at most before she allowed him to leave the perimeter of her sight.

* * *

Takuma, as a member of the highest nobility of vampire, was used to high class human meals when such occasion arose. Not to say he was a stranger to the common place meals when the situation called for it. Not to mention the candies and pocky that Senri and Rima carried with them. That said he had never eaten something quite like Rabbit Stew. At least, that's what he assumed it to be from the disappearance of the dead rabbit from her kitchen table.

And so it continued. With the exception of breakfast, the latter two meals of the next two days was this strange concoction of vegetables and rabbit meat that Izanami forced Takuma to eat. On the night of the second day after Takuma had risen from his almost comatose slumber, he made the mistake of questioning Izanami's readymade meal set before him, to which she replied rather harshly:

"They're called 'left over's'. And if you think my cooking is not good enough to be eaten three days in a row, then I dare you to try and make _me_ something healthy and nutritious that will send me on my merry way back to whatever third-rate fantasy romance novel you jumped out of."

After which he didn't question her about her food anymore. But made it a habit to thank her profusely after they had eaten and opt for any and all chores she needed down inside the house. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for her meals, her hospitality, or her first-aid. No. It was simply that there came a limit to how often a person ate the same meal daily. So it was that on the third night of his recovery that he was rewarded a break from the usual stew.

Throughout the three days he had been there he had gathered bits of information about his would-be hostess. Small things like her age—of which she was eighteen—and how long she had been living by herself—three years to the day of two months and five days ago as she put it. How she was a survivalist of sorts and a hunter—this made known by the several rabbits and few ducks she had brought back from her ventures out into the surrounding forest, and stored behind the mysterious door at the end of the hall. While he had tried to gather more information about her and their location, she was quick to announce Quid Pro Quo and extract the same amount of information from him. While to her it seemed like an even trade of information from the questions asked, to him it seemed like she was gathering more than she ought to.

So it was on this third night, when the reprieve from Rabbit Stew was a blessing in the form of what looked to be a roasted duck and potatoes, that she asked her top three "Topics of Interest" as she liked to call them.

"So, what's the topic tonight? Family? Hobbies? Your odd sleeping patterns?" she asked him, causing him to flinch in slight surprise and glance up at her, eyes full of worry and slight displeasure.

"Well…family sounds like a nice topic," he said his discomfort evident in his voice. While he had been hoping that Izanami might pass off his late mornings and nights as a sign of recuperation, it was obvious that this wasn't the case in Izanami's cold, calculating eyes.

She looked at him tiredly, like she had been through this a thousand times before, and set down her knife and fork, pushing away her half-empty plate to evaluate his body language thoroughly, folding her arms on the table top while she blankly stared him down. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence had gone by, she sighed, conceding to his choice of conversation silently while she went back to her meal. "Alright, Mr. Prince, you're topic wins. I wanted to ask you a question anyway," she consented, sticking a forkful of meat into her mouth. Throughout his stay there, he had yet to shake the nickname she had so cleverly given him, and yet in his mind, he knew that she would never stop.

"Oh. Alright. What is it you wanted to ask me?" he asked in confusion.

"What's your family like?" she asked him suddenly, turning his confused expression into one of surprise.

"What do you mean?" Takuma asked her, this question having never been asked of him about anyone other than his Grandfather.

"You know, who's all in your family? If it makes your lips looser, I'll announce Quid Pro Quo, Mr. Prince," she explained carefully, like he had never heard her in the first place. And although she had promised a fair exchange of information, he still felt like she was taking advantage of him and his curiosity. So he decided to play along, if only to learn more about the mysterious woman he was living with.

"Well…my mother is the head of an Ikebana school, and my father is an actor," he answered dutifully, wanting to know more about this woman other than her name, vague residence, and intimidating personality.

"Any maternal grandparents?" she asked him, leaning her hand against her hand in slight interest. A noticeable gleam in her eye that reflected her own inner curiosity.

"Dead," he answered, not quite sure what she was getting at.

"Paternal?"

He paused for but a second before answering, but nevertheless she noticed his slight hesitation.

"My Grandfather died recently actually."

She made a small humming noise before offering her condolences, staring at him for a second longer before returning to what was left of her meal, her bangs covering the top half of her face as she leaned too far over her plate. Another humming noise came from her soon after the abrupt silence, inciting his curiosity about why she asked about his grandparents in the first place.

"What is it?"

"Mmm, no. It's nothing. I knew someone with the surname "Ichijou" once about seven years ago. he was a weird guy. Well, not so much weird as…odd. He couldn't have looked more than forty, but he talked like a great-grandfather. All chivalry and a very cold demeanor. I think his name was…Asano? No, no, it was Asato. Asato Ichijou. Any relation at all?" she asked him, picking her head up from her plate to look at him from under the cover of her bangs. The cold stare she gave him seeming to look at him, inside him, and through him. He'd had enough of looks like that, whether it was from his Grandfather or her.

"No. I've never heard that name," he answered, speaking in a tone similar to the one she had used before. She looked at him for another minute before her face melted into a smile and a warm kind of look he had never seen before took over her as she chuckled a bit in relief.

"Thank God. That man scares the life outta me. I don't know what I'd do if you were related to him. Although even if you are, you don't seem like it. Mr. Prince is too cheerful and warm to be that cold-hearted," she said as she stood up from her seat, both plates in hand as she threw the bones away in a trash bin before setting them in the sink. Takuma stood up and walked across the kitchen to stand behind her, reaching into the dish water and pulling out one of the plates.

"I can do these if you don't mind," he told her, flashing what he thought was a reassuring smile. She seemed to reciprocate it, smiling happily at him before turning away from the sink. For a brief moment he hoped: he hoped that this unusually headstrong woman wouldn't say anything snarky or sarcastic. He was wrong of course, but there was no helping that.

"Looks like a prince, sounds like a prince, but looks like Mr. Prince isn't as useless as a prince," she said, her blue-green eyes flashing mirth as she left the room, walking down the hallway. He watched her receding back before it disappeared behind the mysterious door, waiting a few seconds before taking a glass out of the cupboards and filling it with water. Watching the door, he slipped his blood tablets from his pocket and dropped two in the water, the tablets dissolving and tingeing the water pink before turning it a translucent red. He glanced down at the small box, turning it in his hand and feeling the small tablets move freely through the empty space within. He was running low on his supply, probably enough for four or five days, meaning that he would have to either leave and find a supplier or risk revealing himself and taking blood from an innocent person. Despite the supply however it did not help his regenerative powers. Having slowed to that of a human's, his body now craved the fresh blood of the only human around for miles that could help heal his wound. But taking her blood without her knowing was against his moral standing, and asking for it would be unwise.

Izanami…she was extremely perceptive and had a demeanor almost as cold as his Grandfather and only slightly less deadly than Kiryuu-kun. Of course she'd been living by herself for the last few years, cut off from most human society, that kind of isolation would have turned even the warmest person into a block of ice. She was a person he knew well to be weary of.

"Looks like you found the Kool-Aid. You know, I was saving that for a rainy day," Izanami's voice rang out, startling Takuma out of his contemplation enough to quickly glance down at the glass and sigh in relief that the tablets had completely dissolved. He turned to see her standing a few feet behind him, the door to the secret room slightly ajar, and her glare zeroing in on the drink in his hand.

"Oh, um, yeah. I hope you don't mind," he stammered, going along with her chosen explanation, glancing nervously from Izanami to the glass of pseudo-blood in his hand.

"Not as long as you give me a drink," she said, taking the near-full glass from his hands and putting it to her pale lips. She took a large amount into her mouth and sputtered, choking on the drink before putting a hand up to her mouth in a half-hearted attempt to keep from spitting it out onto the floor. He gave her a half-smile and sympathetic eyes as a small gesture of understanding—for even if it quenched their thirst it was still bland and tasteless, at least to him it was—before taking the glass from her hands. Glaring at him, she turned to the sink and spat out the "vile" liquid, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before reaching up and opening a different cupboard than the one he had opened before, taking out a half-full canister of this "Kool-Aid" stuff, seeming to check its expiration date before questioning herself about the state of the water pipes.

She turned back to face him, reaching for the glass before staying her hand when he pulled it out of her reach, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Are you sure?" she asked him. He nodded in response, taking a sip and smiling at her as proof that it did not bother him. "Alright, suit yourself. But if you die of food poisoning it's your own fault, Mr. Prince." She walked away from him in strides down the hall, opening the door at the end wide enough for herself to slip through before disappearing down a set of stairs, the door closing with a soft sound. Takuma breathed a sigh of relief before drinking the remaining liquid and placing the empty glass in the dishwater; washing the remaining dishes and placing them in the drying rack.

He left the kitchen then, turning off the light before walking down the hall to the room he was staying in. One hand on the doorknob, he looked to Izanami's door for a brief moment, the door she always seemed to disappear behind when she had the free time. He looked away, entering his borrowed room and closing his door for the night, planning to kill a few hours by reading the books he had found around the house—a few mysteries, a couple non-fiction, and a dictionary. Picking the dictionary up from his bed, he thought back to Izanami's words during dinner. Flipping towards the back of the book, he ran a finger down the list of words on the page, stopping at the term she had used and memorizing it before leaving his room. He knocked repeatedly against the dark-colored wood until he heard her footsteps on the stairs, waiting patiently while her hand turned the brass knob and the door opened enough for Takuma to see her annoyed face.

"How may I help you?" she asked, looking overall bored with his presence alone. He held up the dictionary, one digit pointing at the phrase he had bothered her for.

"Quid pro quo: one thing in return for another. I told you what you wanted to know, so you have to tell me in return," he informed her, closing the book and waiting patiently while she simply stared at him. Before long she moved her eyes away from him and towards the floor, closing her eyes and sighing through her nose in a huff as she seemed to decide something unpleasant. She moved her body out of the slim opening the door provided her and leaned her back against it, closing it completely.

"I might not have people skills and I might come off kind of…cold, but I have my honor as a Kusoichi to uphold so...I don't have any grandparents to speak of. No aunts or uncles either. No cousins, or siblings, or nieces or nephews," Izanami said, effectively listing off every family member she did not have.

"What about your parents?" he asked her quietly, despite knowing full well that she had an estranged father.

"My Dad comes around sometimes to drop off the essentials and talk about the…family business that I have absolutely no interest in. Then he leaves soon after we get into a screaming match," she told him, a wry smile on her face.

Takuma swallowed thickly before asking his final question—a question he already knew as a touchy subject for her. The change in her usually expressionless face was tangible; shifting from the careful guard she kept up to one that was slightly painful.

"She died when I was three. "Stupid, fucking reason" I'm told so often by my Dad whenever I ask," she said, smiling half-heartedly, "I have no memories of her, so I'm not all that attached. It bothers my Dad more than it does me." Takuma felt at a loss then, feeling the same about his own estranged parents, but not exactly worthy of comforting someone who's own mother had died under cloudy circumstances and a father who seemed to want to fight whenever they talked. He decided to try comforting her anyway, knowing the feeling of not having a parent around you during the most crucial times.

"I wasn't close to my parents either; they were busy with work so my Grandfather raised me," Takuma offered, no smile on his face as he looked at her sincerely.

"The same one who died?" he nodded.

"Do you miss him?" Takuma didn't even have to think—nor did he hesitate—before shaking his head no. Why would he when he was the one who killed him for the sole purpose of putting an end to the Ichijou family? Izanami smiled ruefully at this and crossed her arms over her chest, looking down at her sock-covered feet before speaking to him.

"Sometimes…at the end of the day, family isn't defined by blood ties or who gave birth to who. It's defined by who you feel safest with. With whom you can trust and love unconditionally. Family is something that's earned through time. It's almost like a friendship in some ways, but deeper," Izanami told him, her smile strained and small. He copied her smile, nodding his head in understanding before she disappeared back within her secret room, a simple "good night" thrown at him as the door closed in his face. A small smile kept on Takuma's face even after she had left him alone. He felt…lighter somehow, despite the heavy feeling in his body that pervaded blood lust. He was simply taking small comfort in the fact that she felt the same way he did.


	3. 3: Chapter 2

"Leave your arms up and turn this way," Izanami said, issuing simple commands for the blond as she wrapped the clean, white gauze around his thin, pale body, the wound on his chest the only spot that provided any color at all. Takuma turned his body back to face her, the palms of his hands flat against the low ceiling as he kept his arms up above his head, his lower torso the only part of his body that remained clothed while he stood half-naked in his savior's kitchen. A nervous smile twitched a bit on his face as Izanami came closer once more and wrapped her arms around his back, her body momentarily flush against his chest as the roll of gauze passed between her hands, unrolling across his flesh before the feel of her body heat and her hidden curves moved away. It never got old the way nothing seemed to phase her: the body of a skinned rabbit or a nude bird, a half-naked man standing in front of her; although he was sure that while he was unconscious she had seen more of him than just his upper body, seeing as how he had woken in foreign clothes that he was sure were not hers. Which raised the question of who's they were in the first place.

"Alright, unless you plan on walking around half-naked, put your shirt back on." Her cold voice cut through his train of thought and he refocused on her back as she replaced what little amount of gauze there was inside the first-aid kit. "Or, if you plan on giving me a show, don't. I'm not one to complain," she continued, inclining her head towards him to give him a smirk, small human canines flashing at him predatorily, causing him to flinch slightly and move away a step. She laughed once and turned away again, making him feel the fool for falling for her trick.

"No need to be afraid, Mr. Prince. You looked so serious I thought a small joke would help get back your usual demeanor," she explained, closing the lid of the small, red box and turning back to face him, mirth swimming in her blue-green eyes while her thin lips retained her small smirk.

"It doesn't seem like a joke when you say it though," he replied quietly, not wanting to offend her as he slipped the sleeves of a dark blue button-down over his arms, buttoning it up over his bandaged abdomen.

"You wound me, Mr. Prince, I only meant to help. Speaking of wounds, I'm almost out of my medical supplies." She laid a hand on top of the box sitting on the kitchen table and gave him a sour look, silently blaming him for the drop in supplies.

"I-I'm sorry for the trouble," he stuttered making her snicker in response.

"Don't wet yourself. The good news is there'll be more tomorrow." She trailed off intentionally, picking up the half empty box and carrying to back to the only other door in the singular hallway besides the bedroom and the hallway: the bathroom.

"And the bad news?" he asked when she gave no indication of continuing on her tangent. He ventured a bit into the hallway and waited while she put the box away in a small cupboard inside. She hesitated a moment before closing the door, and inclining her head towards him, the eyes on the reflection in the bathroom room mirror swiveling towards his own reflective figure.

"He'll most likely try to shoot you when he gets here," she said, plain and simple and easy, as if she was talking about the weather. Takuma gave her a worried glance, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion and slight alarm. Izanami's face remained expressionless—not even her eyes betrayed any emotion she kept welled up inside of her—as she continued, "And unlucky for you, I won't be around tomorrow to make sure my hard work didn't go to waste."

He opened his mouth to ask who this mystery person was and why she was leaving, but before he could utter a single syllable she turned away from the bathroom mirror and smiled a disarming smile at him, taking him by surprise that despite her harshness she could show something so sweet looking. It took him a moment to figure out that she was tricking him once again, and when he frowned and showed his confusion she snickered and returned to her usual smirk.

"Don't worry, Mr. Prince, I'm not abandoning you to die, I'm just going hunting, we're almost out of meat. I should be back before he gets here," she told him walking back towards the kitchen, pushing her way past him. He turned to follow her, watching as she crouched down in front of fridge and rummaged through one of the shelves.

"And if you're not?"

"Keep low," she said cryptically, "he tends to aim high." He was both confused and concerned as to how this person was and why he would shoot someone indiscriminately, so he asked her who he was and why he would attempt to kill him. "He's my father. And how would you react if you went to visit your only daughter and found, instead of her, a strange man there at her place with no idea as to where she is or when she's coming back? If it were me, I'd probably shoot too."

* * *

The next day she rose early and left, a shot gun slung across her back along with a couple 22s strapped to her belt. Keeping to his promise not to leave the house, Takuma spent the day inside, sleeping well into the afternoon and reading the few books she owned. While the temptation of seeing what was behind the mysterious door lingered in the back of his mind, he kept to his promise and kept clear of the door. However, when staying in the house got to be too much for him, he stepped outside for a few minutes of fresh air and a change of scenery. Contrary to the stuffiness and warmth of the one story house, the air outside was crisp and cool to the touch, a slight breeze bringing with it the smell of forest decay and animal blood.

Takuma's throat began to burn, starting as a dull ache as it spread from the back of his throat all the way to the center of his chest. He closed his eyes as the arching sun made its way behind the line of trees surrounding Izanami's property. Behind his eyelids his irises glowed a dull red, and for a second—just the smallest, most insignificant second—he imagined hot, red blood dripping down his throat, cooling the agonizing ache that lingered there whenever he was around Izanami. The air changed then, flowing from the east rather than the west, and a sharp odor hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyelids flashed open and his irises returned to their normal bright green color. He inhaled again and paid more attention to the details the scent gave. The small aroma of gun powder and smoke, mixed perspiration and the heady scent of a male body traveled on the breeze that flowed around him. He sharpened his ears and heard the heavy snap and drag as he walked through the isolated woods, the sounds growing louder and closer.

Takuma froze as the stranger broke through the line of trees despite knowing he would be there eventually. The stranger froze as well, his figure stiffening as he looked up and spotted the young man standing in front of his daughter's home. He was a tall, rough-looking man, just about a few centimeters taller than Takuma himself, with short black hair and coal black eyes that seemed to be set in the same cold stare that Izanami's seemed to be perpetually set in. After no more than a minute of perusing the other, the stranger—lightening quick to any human's eyes—pulled out an old 44, cold eyes locked on him as he pointed the barrel at Takuma's forehead.

"Who the hell are you boy, and why are you on my Daughter's property?" he asked in a deep, equally rough voice as he stepped slowly closer, the heavy pack on his back slipping off of his shoulder and onto the ground with a thud. Takuma slowly raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture—despite being a vampire with accelerated healing a gunshot wound to his person would weaken his body's already slow healing power.

"My name is Takuma, I'm a… an acquaintance of Izanami—" Takuma began, the subtle sound of female footsteps catching his attention before the soft click of a gun being cocked resounded in the air. Izanami's voice rang out loud and clear as she stepped out from the far corner of her small home, a fair distance away from where the man had appeared from, a string of geese slung over her shoulder and an amused grin on her face.

"For the last damn time, Mr. Prince, call me Iz. And Dad, put the gun down, we both know you're a terrible shot. All you'll end up doing is making more work for me," she said, walking towards them as normally as she would any other time, all the time the barrel of her own 22 pointed at her father. Takuma's brows furrowed together, knowing that Izanami's relationship with her father was strained at best, but to the point that she would point a loaded gun at him?

"Who is this, Izanami? Some stray dog you happened to pick up?" he asked her, his eyes glancing towards her, but his pistol never wavering from its potential target.

"A dog? Don't make me laugh; he's too timid and cute for that. He's more like a pup I rescued from the rabble." As she spoke, she placed herself in front of Takuma, the gun now pointed at her instead of him.

"You always did want a mangy mutt, and now you got one." His gun never lowered from its' position, but a small look of uncertainty edged its' way into his eyes as he glared from Takuma to Izanami.

"Can't blame me for picking up the first one I see." It was a strange conversation, and not one that Takuma completely understood. Nearest he could tell, he was probably supposed to feel insulted. "Mr. Prince, it's time to change you're bandages. Go inside and get started, I'll be there in a minute," she told him, never once taking her eyes off of the man in front of her. Takuma opened his mouth to argue but closed it instead, deciding to stay out of any bad blood that was currently circulating between the two. Slowly backing away from her and her father, he retreated inside hesitantly, one last glance thrown towards Izanami in worry before he closed the door and started undressing, bloodied and soiled bandages dropping to the floor as he examined himself.

The gash that had once been an angry red had paled some, and the blood that had been leaking through Izanami's crude job of stitches had clotted over the wound. Around the edges the sliced flesh and muscle began to grow back, albeit slowly and imperceptivity to the human eye. He winced at the poor sight of it and dug through his borrowed pants pocket, retrieving from it the small box of blood tablets. Moving away from the window where the stand-off continued to take place with neither side giving in to the other, he opened the small container and assessed the amount inside.

_I'm almost out. I barely have enough for two days at most, _he thought to himself pursing his lips as he took one out of the package and put it in his mouth, snapping it in half between his teeth and furrowing his brows in distaste. His body was starting to reject the tablets, not in the sense that it didn't tide over his undying thirst for the time being, but in the sense that the taste was almost unbearable to deal with. He needed food, real food, and now he realized it was mistake to let that smallest thought, the simplest day dream, slip through his consciousness. His teeth began to hurt once more and his throat burned like it was lit on fire, but the only thing he could do at the moment was take another blood tablet and chew on it, dragging it out way past the point of it being even slightly solid, so long as the ache in his throat stayed as a dull ember.

* * *

When he lived with his grandfather, he had grown accustomed to being taught to one day lead the Ichijou family, and of the constant silence that pervaded every crevice of the house he had grown up in when Kaname was not present. It was a silence he dreaded when he was forced to go home for the holidays or at the request of his grandfather, and one he relished escaping when he would return to the Academy. However, in this present circumstance he would gladly take one more day in the silence encrusted world, than one more minute of this dinner that gave true meaning to the words "silence", tension", and "murderous".

In the five days since he had awoken to find himself in the care of this strange woman, he had grown to both expect and fear Izanami's words, being as harsh and cold as they were. Today, however, was an exception since it filled him with relief when she broke the silence that seemed to be permeated with constant on-edge tension and the brief scrapes of silverware against platters.

"If I wanted to listen to knives scraping against dishes, I would have kicked _you_ out as soon as my supplies was delivered," to which she gestured to her father with a knife, "and I would have left _you_ to die in the hole I found you in," to which she gestured to the blond on her left, "now either one of you picks a topic, or I'll get my gun and finish what life started," she threatened, bringing the knife down onto the table, jamming it into the wood and leaving it to stick up menacingly as she glared at us, an annoyed sneer on her face when her father glared at her.

"Why is this pup wearing my clothes?" he asked, turning his glare from Izanami to Takuma.

"Would you rather have found him in bandages and nude?" she returned, fingers curling around the handle of the knife and jerking it out of the table in a swift motion, as if it were stuck in something much softer and malleable than wood. Takuma blushed at the thought, if only because it would have only made him uncomfortable, seeing as Izanami tended to not be squeamish—her bored-bordering-on uninterested expression whenever he removed his borrowed shirt proved that much.

The man, whom Takuma now knew as Yosuno, grumbled in discontent, being neither happy that this blond man was wearing his clothes for the time being or the point his daughter so plainly made, and went back to the slapdash meal Izanami had prepared. Takuma, feeling uncomfortable causing any more discord between the two, quickly spoke, suggested to them that he could change into the clothes he had worn before arriving here.

"That won't be possible unless you plan on covering key areas of your body," Izanami said as if she were talking about the weather. Takuma looked at her confused until she looked up at him and explained. "You're clothes were filthy, torn, and looked like rags, so I used them as such. I may have also used them to patch some holes in my clothes."

Takuma looked at her both shocked and surprised before it melted into an amused half-smile. "You could have asked me, I would have still let you if they were in that state," he told her, earning a weary glance from the woman beside him while Yosuno continued to glare at the both of them.

"Seeing as you were unconscious during that time I found it impossible to do so, Mr. Prince," she told him, taking another bite of the weird concoction she had prepared, but despite its' looks it still tasted good. Takuma chuckled good-naturedly and took a bite as well, still trying to make the best of a bad situation as Yosuno continued to glare hatefully at the both of them. No more than ten seconds later he stood up abruptly from the table, silverware clattering noisily against the half-empty plate.

"I'm going to sleep. You two make me sick," Yosuno said, before turning to leave, walking down the short hallway to the mystery door, disappearing behind it. They stayed silent for awhile after his departure. Takuma was silent out of sheer awkwardness while Izanami stayed silent simply because she was clearing off her father's plate onto her own, and continued to eat as if he were never there in the first place.

"Don't take it to heart; he hates rainbows and butterflies, too." Izanami spoke up then, startling Takuma. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity and asked her what she meant. "Well," she set down her fork and knife and leaned her back against the chair, crossing her arms and looking up at the ceiling, searching for words, "I don't know about him, but to me you come off as a teddy bear-shaped lollipop. You're non-lethal."

At this Takuma smiled, unsure of both what to say to this and whether this was statement was in his favor or not. _Usually she would be right, but…I'm so hungry,_ he thought, standing up from the table and clearing away the remaining dishes for her, cleaning off what little remained of his own portion into the trash bin and setting the pot of leftovers inside the fridge.

"Mr. Prince, where are the knives?" Izanami asked him, setting her empty plate in the water as she searched the counter next to the sink. Takuma rinsed the plate he had washed and set it on the other side of the sink in the drying rack, looking over at Izanami as she searched the counter and table top for the missing knives.

"I put them in the water, Izanami." His hands slipped in, aiming to bring out one of the knives to show her and put an end to her fruitless search.

She turned on him and set a glare on the blonde, a snarl set on her lips as she chided him. "You're not supposed to leave knives in the water or you'll—" Takuma let out a startled gasp as slim metal sliced his right palm. He pulled out his hand, water and drops of blood falling back into the dish water and dripping onto the floor, staining them both red. "Cut yourself," Izanami finished with a sigh, grabbing his injured hand and turning it upright so the blood would pool into the center of his palm. "It doesn't look too deep. Run your hand under cold water while I get a Band-Aid," she told him, letting go of his hand and turning on her heel. Under her breath she grumbled obscurities—most of which seemed to be about his "inexperience".

Takuma turned on the water and, looking briefly over his shoulder, raised his hand to his mouth and licked timidly at his blood, lapping at it as it pooled and stained the skin of his palm. When a good deal of it was cleaned away he let his hand drop away from his face wearily and ran it under the cold water, watching remorsefully as the little blood that continued to flow from his wound flowed down the drain. True, his own blood would do little to quench his thirst and even less to heal his wound, but the small amount of relief that was brought with it that let him have a bit more of a grip on himself.

Behind him he heard Izanami's footsteps come back towards him, and a small, strong hand on his shoulder as she turned him away from the sink. "I'm going to pretend for your sake that the blood loss is finally getting to you, because why else would you ignore my specific instructions to not leave the house, and put sharp, pointy objects under layers of suds and dirty water besides plain stupidity." As she spoke she wrapped one of the Band-Aids over the curve of his thumb, and another two over the edge of his hand where the line of red lead towards his wrist.

"Do that again and it won't be the knife that hurts you, Mr. Prince," she threatened. Takuma chuckled at her words and pressed his right injured hand against his wounded chest.

"It was you who said they'd rather their hard work not go to waste, wasn't it?" he commented smiling a bright smile at her who in turn scowled at the reminder. Nevertheless, the injury did nothing to stop her from shoving his right shoulder rather harshly and taking his position in front of the sink, reaching one hand into the water. She ran her hand through the dingy water, searching for the drain plug until her fingers came across an object slim and sharp, its' blade sitting upright under the water. She followed the blade to its handle and pulled it up out of the water, holding it in a position that one could interpret as threatening—one that Takuma bought into.

"Don't get your hopes up, Mr. Prince. I have a very small empathetic side and an even smaller tolerance level," she growled, throwing the knife into the empty sink basin before plunging her hand once more into the water and dragging out the plug, the murky liquid creating a small whirlpool as it fell through the drain. "I'm not cute and cuddly like you, Mr. Prince. I'm lethal. So don't assume things you don't know," Izanami said, turning her back on him as she strode down the hallway. Takuma's smile dimmed in her lack of presence and he turned back to the dual basined sink. Taking the plug and reinserting it in the drain, he refilled the basin with hot water and soap—after, of course, removing the knives from both basins and setting them aside of the counter.

For a few minutes he went to washing the remaining plates and silverware, setting them aside on the drying rack. One plate, however, slipped from his grasp, glancing off the edge of the counter and falling to the floor with a crash. Shards of ceramic flew across the tiled floor from where it fell, yet it fell on deaf ears as Takuma fell against the sink, leaning heavily against it as a bolt of pain struck through his chest, his heart throbbing erratically and offbeat. He panted heavy breaths as the wave came and went, each inflation of his lungs bringing with it a small, sharp stab.

A heavy hand fell on Takuma's shoulder and he turned, shocked and wide-eyed, as Izanami looked at him with mixed worry and confusion. She pressed a hand against the side of his neck, measuring out his heartbeat while he continued to take in deep breaths. She sighed heavily, her hand falling away from his neck and trailing down his arm, tightening around his right bicep and pulling him up to his feet. "This is why I told you to take it easy, Mr. Prince. Your insides are worse than your outsides, even if your outsides are healing as normal." At this Takuma inwardly chuckled despite the pain he felt inside. While to her his slow healing was normal and possibly exemplary—despite this sudden wave of pain—for him it was slow bordering on stopped, for sure he needed nutrients—blood to be exact.

Then he saw the knife. Not the knife he had accidently cut himself with, his nose could tell him that much, but the one that Izanami had brought out of the water, the sliver-thin edge of it glittering red. His eyes glowed red for a fraction of a second and as he looked to her hand to see if she had cut herself, he noticed that her fingertips were indeed slit. Why she hadn't bothered to bandage them he didn't understand, but, then again, he didn't understand her most of the time anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said, using her body to keep his own from falling again. She scoffed, wrapping his arm around her neck and shoulders and helping him to stand before leading him towards the guest bedroom.

"Don't apologize for something like this, Mr. Prince. It's not like you injured yourself intentionally after all," she told him, supporting his weight until she dropped him onto his bed with a heavy thud. Takuma groaned and rolled onto his back, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Izanami as she leaned over him, grabbing his jaw with her fingertips—the ones he suspected to have been sliced—and forced his head to face towards her. "But if you really are sorry, then you can make it up to me tomorrow by helping me out with my garden. And don't look at me like that, where else do you think I get radishes and carrots?" She let go of his jaw then and left, a wave thrown carelessly over her shoulder before she shut the door and left him in minimal silence and total darkness.

Within the darkness, however, there was a flash of silver as a knife was turned this way and that within the blonde man's hands while in his mind a few choice sentences rolled around. _I'm not cute and cuddly like you. You're non-lethal._ If only she knew how true those words used to be. Bringing the knife closer to his face, he saw within the darkness the small, soft gleam of red along the edge. Inhaling tentatively he let fantasies cloud his mind: warm blood soothing the burn in his throat, healing is wound, feeling rejuvenated. Somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledged the fact that he was beginning to think like Aidou, yet that part of him wasn't in control of his body as a pale pink tongue slithered out between his lips, lightly pressing the flat of it against the blade and trailing along its smooth surface, collecting the blood that lingered there. With his eyes closed he brought his tongue back within the confines of his mouth, thinking on the flavor he tasted in Izanami's blood, and grimacing as the flavor received a name.

_Bitter._


End file.
